


My kind of Family

by trash_it



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Frottage, M/M, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Semi-Public Sex, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_it/pseuds/trash_it
Summary: Peter had never planned on settling down. The life of a bachelor was far more interesting than any supposed domestic bliss. At least, that’s what he thought until he met the Stilinski’s.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have the second and third chapter mostly done. Will be updated as I finish things.

Peter had, of course, met the Sheriff informally a half dozen of times. Enough that he recognized him but that the Sheriff didn’t recognize Peter. Something that Peter now found himself thankful as he spotted the familiar rugged face across the bar. As the Sheriff of a relatively small town, Sheriff Stilinski had never seemed particularly interesting to Peter. Attractive sure, with his large hands and easy smile, but beyond that he was just your average family man. Someone who lost his wife too young and made up for it by burying himself in his work. Now, however, he had Peter’s attention. 

Draped against the bar at The Bulge, the Sheriff was fending off the advances of a particularly persistent leather daddy. Sure, he was smiling and playing nice, but Peter could see how uncomfortable he was in eyes. Darting across the room, half saying “ _ help me _ !” and half checking out the younger, slimmer, men that were clearly more his type. Luckily for him, Peter was feeling helpful. 

Popping another button open on his shirt, Peter sauntered over to the pair, coaxing his face into something softer, sweeter. 

“Hey gorgeous, sorry I’m late.” Peter latches onto the Sheriff’s arm, looking at the man across from them with a sneer. “Who’s your friend?”

The Sheriff chuckled and smiled, easily moving past the initial moment of surprise, at Peter with the look of someone used to dealing with people who spoke without thinking.

“Let’s not be rude, baby.” the Sheriff slid an arm casually around Peter, “This is… well he introduced himself as Big Daddy.”

“Well, sorry to tear him away from you  _ Big Daddy _ . But this fella promised me a dance,” The look Peter gave the Sheriff was positively salacious. “ And it’s time for him to pay up.”

Peter pulled the Sheriff towards the dance floor, rolling his eyes as the other man shot an apologetic smile towards the stranger they were abandoning. Pulling insistently on the Sheriff’s hand, Peter led them into the throng of writhing dancers. Putting them in the middle, bodies pushing them together on all sides. Peter looped his hands around the Sheriff’s neck, moving his body along to the quick beat of the music. Grinding his hips provocatively against the older man.

“So,” Peter smirked. “Do you have a name? Or should I just call you  _ Big Daddy _ too?”

“John.” John pulled him closer at the question, hands skimming from his sides to his hips. “What about you?”

“Peter, but you can call me whatever you want gorgeous.” With a wink and a grin, Peter turned around and putting his  _ assets _ to work. 

They danced, moving and grinding seamlessly together even as the music and the people around them changed. Peter found himself enjoying the feel of John’s hands on his body more than he thought he would, the man was a pretty good dancer. For a man who probably did more paperwork than most, he did some nice work with his hands. So much so that even Peter was starting to feel a little antsy.

“Why don’t we take this someplace quieter?”

* * *

 

They stumble into the bathroom together, lips locked. Peter manages to open the stall door behind him just in time to be shoved roughly in. John nips and licks into his mouth, heedless of the world around him. Peter had half expected the closeted Sheriff to be bad at this, all fumbling hands and inexperience, instead he gets knowing hands who pinch and stroke in all the right ways. He’s more than happy to be proven wrong.  

Peter falls down to his knees, popping the button on John’s jeans. A large, warm, hand strokes the back of his head as Peter licks and teases. He plans to take it slow, drag it out but it seems like John has other ideas. His hand moving to grip at his hair, pulling him tight against his cock. 

“Open up,” John’s demands, voice husky as he tries to stay quiet. 

Peter smirks, pleased at how this is progressing, and decides to indulge him. Peter swallows him down, hand gripping the base. John tugs at his hair, pulling him closer and closer until Peter starts to choke. Eyes watering, Peter looks up as he lets it happen. John groans, his hand moving to wipe away the tears, cupping his cheek. An unnaturally tender moment considering their environment. 

It’s a little much. Peter pulls back, turning around so he can shove his pants and underwear down. Showing off the shiny black plug nestled clearly between his cheeks. Peter smirks over his shoulder at the stunned expression on the Sheriff’s face, hand waving the condom he had stashed in his pocket. 

“You ready?” Peter baits, grinning. 

It works well enough, John’s hands are back on him. One gripping his shoulder while the other gently slides the plug from him. Fingers slipping in, testing the waters as it were. 

“Come on already.”

“Have to make sure you’re ready.”

“I didn’t come here to have bathroom sex with a stranger because I wanted it gentle.” Peter snears, looking back over his shoulder. 

John just laughs, sliding the condom on quickly before pushing in. 

“Better?” Peter can feel his smile pressed against his shoulder.

“Yeah…” Peter huffed, tempted to roll his eyes but at the same time enjoying the sensation of being filled. The Sheriff had a nice cock, thick in all the right ways. 

John picks up speed, holding him close, his movements rough. A hand slips up to grip Peter’s throat, the Sheriff’s soft grunts echoing in his ear. Peter moans, the noise echoing in the small bathroom.

“Gotta be quiet, don’t want anyone coming in here.” John’s hand slips from his throat, fingers pushing past his lips so that Peter can suck on them. “Unless you want someone to come in? Do you want them to see how much of  slut you are? Hanging off my cock like a little whore?”

Peter moans, loudly. Intrigued by both the dirty talk and the ideas John is putting in his head. 

“Couldn’t even wait until we got out of here, had to have it right away. Desperate,” He punctuated his words with a forceful thrust. “Needy… Slutty… Boy.”

It’s honestly rather pedantic but Peter finds it affecting him regardless. The petty part of Peter wants to even up the score a little, no harm in testing out a little theory…

Peter moans, pitching his voice a little higher, and begs. “Please… Please Daddy!”

His theory proves to be right as John lets out a stifled little groan and speeds up, slamming against Peter’s prostate and reaching around to jack him off. When Peter cums he goes a little weak in the knees, the Sheriff adjusts to help hold him up. The small action is oddly pleasing to Peter.

Easing up his pace, gentling his thrusts, John holds him back against his chest as he cums with a groan. 

“As hot as this sounds, can you guys hurry up in there? I gotta piss and there’s only the one stall.” They hear the voice through the stall door.

Peter laughs, loud and genuine, kissing the Sheriff on his flushed cheeks as he fixes his clothes. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoomp there it is  
> chapter 2

It takes a few weeks after their bathroom stall hookup for circumstances to align in Peter’s favour. Something public but informal enough that the Sheriff would have time to chat with him. The Sheriff’s office Community Barbeque, all the officers and the  _ who’s who _ of Beacon Hills milling about in John’s backyard. Peter makes a point to arrive fashionably late, slipping in amongst the crowd. Eyes tracking through the crowd, trying to find John before he found him. Peter found him holding office next to the barbeque, one hand brandishing the spatula while the other was wrapped around a much younger man. Was the Sheriff not as closeted as Peter had thought? Looking at the pair Peter wasn’t quite sure, the arm around the shoulder seemed familial enough but the look in the boys eyes was filled with adoration that was anything but. They seemed to share an easy rapport, laughing and joking as they cooked the food. Sending it off on plates to the other table, seemingly unaware of the world still moving around them. Regardless of their relationship, this could still be fun. 

Peter approached the pair, “You fellas need any help? I’ve been known to be pretty good with meat myself.”

The Sheriff turns and you can see the moment of recognition, followed quickly by a moment of panic before he smoothes it all over with a smile. “I think we got it under control, don’t you son?” 

The last word is said with emphasis, both informing and a bit of a warning.  _ Interesting _ . 

“I don’t know Dad, don’t think I haven’t seen you sneaking food while you’re cooking it. Maybe I could use some back up.”  The kid, John’s son apparently, grins at him as he elbows his father. 

“I could probably manage that.” Peter sticks out his hand, “Peter, Peter Hale. Nice to officially meet the Sheriff that keeps our beautiful town safe.”

“John Stilinski, and this little guy here is…”

“Stiles, you can call me Stiles and I am not little. Like at all. In fact I’m very big, very adulty, I go to university and live on my own. On occasion.” Stiles rambled, cutting his Dad off quickly. 

Peter laughs, a loud genuine one that surprises even him. John chuckles and hands him the spatula, moving over to make some space between the pair. The conversation flows easily and Peter finds himself enjoying the Barbeque, hanging out with the two men long past the need for cooking. 

“We should do this again.” Peter shoots a significant look over Stiles’ shoulder at the Sheriff, letting him know exactly what he wanted to do again. 

John flushes, red chasing across his rugged features. “Yeah sure, that sounds good.” 

“Alright, it’s a date!” Peter would feel bad for all but outing John to his son if it weren’t for the indulgent eye roll and the pat on the shoulder he received. 

_ Oh yes _ . This was going to be fun. 

* * *

Their first date goes off without a hitch thanks to Peter’s planning. Dinner and a movie, a nice middle of the road restaurant and no huge romantic overtures to avoid making the closeted Sheriff feel uncomfortable. They hold hands and make out in the back of the movie theatre, something so infinitely juvenile it makes Peter cringe but it gets the job done. The Sheriff kisses him on his front step, short and sweet, and Peter knows he has him hooked.

They fly under the radar, both the town and Stiles’, with John slowly gaining confidence in his sexuality and their relationship. When Stiles goes back to school in September, Peter pushes. Pushes to make things more official, to entrench himself more into the life of the Stilinski family. By the time Christmas break rolls around, Stiles comes home to find Peter sitting on their couch. Warm cozy sweater, wine in hand. Peter could just see the picture he presented. 

“So…” Stiles shuffled his feet, “Is this a thing now?”

“It is. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, I’d be one hell of a hypocrite if it was.” Stiles scoffed, still standing awkwardly in the entryway. 

“Good. Your father was nervous about telling you,” Peter stood up and approached him, hand clasping his shoulder. “I want this to go well.”

Peter can see the flush spread across Stiles’ cheeks, he smirks as he goes to the kitchen for more wine. 

* * *

The holidays pass in a blur of festivities, Peter finds himself oddly enjoying it. Between John and Stiles’ enthusiasm and cheer, it’s probably the best Christmas in Peter’s recent memory. A Christmas without the incessant nagging from his sister to “ _ shape up _ ” and to “ _ stop being disgusting _ ”. The worst part about the last comment was that it was mainly directed as his “ _ gay lifestyle _ ”, and not even at the actual vaguely terrible things he gets up to on a regular basis. Like letting Stiles walk in on him getting dressed. 

It happens on New Years Eve, Peter had come over to get ready at John’s place before they went to the Sheriff's Stations Annual New Years party. Stiles comes clambering up the stairs, rushing into his Father’s room out of breath. 

“Hey, Dad, I need your…” Stiles skids to a stop, hovering in the doorway. “Help?”

Peter finished shrugging out of shirt, not bothering to re-button his pants. “What do you need help with? Your Dad’s just in the shower if it needs him specifically.”

“No...it’s fine. I just…” Stiles eyes were fixed on the trail of hair leading down to the opening of his pants. “Didn’t know what to wear?”

“And you thought your Father would give you fashion advice?” Peter snorted, tossing his shirt over his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help you pick something out.”

Peter threw an arm over Stiles’ shoulder, pretending to ignore the flush on his cheeks. They walked over together to Stiles’ room with Peter heading right to the closet to sort through the options. 

“So where are you going?” Peter asks casually.

Stiles fidgets, shuffling his feet. “Just to Scott’s, but it’s the first time everyone is getting together after we all left to go to school.”

“Nervous?” Peter sneers.

Stiles laughs, rolling his eyes. “No, you Dick. I just want to portray the whole “ _ I’m doing good _ ” vibe. Make sure all the Jacksons of the world know where they can shove it.”

Peter tossed a pair of skinny jeans over his shoulder to hide his smile. “Are all your shirts either baggy or plaid?”

“No, I also have ones with funny sayings on them. See, this one says “For fox sake” with a little picture of a fox on it.” Stiles pointed at the picture. “Get it? Because it sounds like fuck.”

“Oh my god.” Peter rolled his eyes before passing Stiles his v-neck shirt. “Here, try this one on. It should fit you better than anything in your closet.”

Stiles’ blush came back in full force and Peter had to work hard to maintain his innocent expression. The kid gripped the shirt,staring at it like he thought it might disappear from his grasp. 

“Well go on, try it on. I want to see if it fits.” Peter motioned towards the outfit.

“Yeah sure… I’ll just get right to that.”

Stiles stripped quickly, avoiding direct eye contact. Peter was pleased to see the that the blush extended down to his chest. He was adorable, embarrassed yet compliant. He was perfect, they both were if Peter really let himself think about it. The Stilinski men, a deliciously interesting pair. 

The shirt was tight across the shoulders, much the same way it was on Peter. The neckline dipped low enough to show the scattering of moles and the lingering blush, it was tempting. Peter quickly gave in, smoothing a hand across Stiles’ chest to brush away some imaginary lint. 

“Looks perfect. You can keep that shirt if you want, I have a few of that same style.” 

They were close together by this point, Stiles eyes kept dipping to Peter’s lips even as he chewed on his own. Peter could push, but he was always a fan of the long game. 

Peter squeezed Stiles’ shoulder. “Have fun at the party tonight.” 

He went back to John’s room, where the Sheriff was just finishing getting dressed himself. 

“You planning on going out like that? May give people the wrong idea.” John asked, humor clear in his eyes. 

Peter threw his arms around John’s neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding some tags.  
> There's some vague elements of non-con somnophilia stuff but not enough for me to tag it imo? but if that's something you need to peace out for I get it.

The proposal would have come as a surprise if Peter hadn’t seen the ring and the little script John had written the week before. Although he didn’t anticipate it this soon, the pair just sitting together on the couch, the anniversary of the bbq still a month away. Looking down at the ring in John’s hand, Peter tells him so. 

The Sheriff chuckles, “Wrong anniversary."

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to answer just yet, I just wanted you to know that from the moment I knew you were special. And all it took was seeing you with Stiles, seeing us as… well, a family. That just sealed the deal.”

He had that sweet smile, the soft one he started getting on the quiet mornings they spent together in bed, it made Peter want to give him everything. Regardless of his plans, regardless of his intentions, Peter had become emotionally invested. The sensible part of his brain told him that that was a good sign to quit while he was ahead. The sensible part of his brain also had the nagging tone of voice that his sister was prone to. He ignored it.

“Yes, yes of course I’ll marry you,” Peter surged forward to kiss John. “Idiot.”

* * *

 

Stiles comes home for the summer, they tell him about the engagement while barbecuing in the backyard. His face blanks for a second, before breaking out into a grin. Stiles hugs his father, pressing his face into John’s chest, before turning and doing the same to Peter. Peter slips a hand up to grip the back of his neck and feels Stiles relax against him. John smiles fondly at the pair.

They finish eating, the sun setting behind them, and head inside. The trio had had a few beers while they ate outside, once inside Peter suggests opening up some whiskey to celebrate. They relocate to the couch, the three of them managing to somehow squeeze onto it. Glasses in hand, the no doubt expensive bottle of whiskey sat on the table half empty. The value was wasted on Stiles, it all burned the same to him, but his father and Peter seemed to be enjoying it. They were both loose limbed and grinning as they stared at each other fondly. 

Stiles sat on his side of the couch and watched the pair. They were holding hands, hid Dad stroking the ring on Peter’s left hand absently. It was pretty, something unique but seemed oddly fitting for Peter. Three small bands of varying colour, one looked like wood, the other some kind of teal stone, and the last an off white. Something that resembled bone. God, only his Dad would think it would be a good idea to give someone a ring with bone in it. Stiles couldn’t help but wonder what kind of ring his Dad had given his Mother. His memories of her too fuzzy to remember that kind of details. Regardless, Peter seemed enamoured enough with it, staring down at their joined hands while recounting a particularly funny story about how he had ruined his sister’s wedding.

“The whole thing was a mixup but she’s still determined to believe that I did it on purpose. Something about me needing to push the ‘gay agenda’ onto her wedding.” Peter snorted. 

The Sheriff laughs, then turns to Stiles and sees him sitting in silent contemplation. 

“Why the long face, son?” His Dad slings an arm around his shoulders. “Whiskey getting you down?”

“Not a chance old man.” Stiles made an attempt to shove his father off him, but it was half-hearted at best. “Just thinking about marriage and stuff…”

His Father looks at him, his face serious as he searches for something in Stiles’ eyes. Whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it. “You know, your mother and I did the big white wedding thing. We both hated it.”

“Why is that?” Peter asked, curious.

“Too formal, too big. A bunch of people there neither of us cared about. Asshole Family members.” Stiles snorted, spitting out his drink in surprise at hearing his Dad swear. 

“Hey, that’s a 100$ bottle of whiskey you just spat out.” Peter glares, reaching over to smack the back of Stiles head. 

“Now, now, boys. No fighting.”

* * *

 

The next morning Stiles wakes up warm and cozy but with a splitting headache. He raises his head slightly, just enough to take note of his surroundings. He’s still in the living room, lying on his father’s chest. Their bodies tangled together so that they both fit on the couch. Stiles jolts at that realization, which causes the strong arms wrapped around him to tighten. He looks around for Peter, trying to determine just how embarrassed he should be at drunkenly passing out on his Dad. Noises float into the room from the kitchen, the scent of bacon filling the room. 

Stiles tries to squirm out of his Dad’s grasp but all that does is make him realize that his body has certain expectations of lazy mornings post partying. His erection rubs against his Dad’s thigh, every little movement sending shocks of pleasure through his body. Stiles chokes back a moan. There is no way this is happening. This shit was supposed to stay in his head. It was not supposed to make a real life appearance, not now, not ever. Especially not after his Dad just got engaged to hot as hell Peter Hale.

But, at the same time. Who has to know? His Dad’s asleep, Peter’s off making breakfast, and he’s… well he’s already here so what harm could it do to take advantage of the situation. Stiles is busy trying to mentally talk himself into it, but his hands and body seem to have already decided. His hips made small circular thrusts against his Dad’s thigh, fingers trailing up his chest to stroke at the shadow of a beard across his jaw. Nothing he’s doing could be called overtly sexual, it makes Stiles feel better to know that he could make excuses if anything were to happen. Even so, Stiles could feel tears pooling in his eyes as the feelings began to overwhelm him. The warmth, the closeness… not to mention the grinding pressure against his cock.  

“Mmmm… Let me sleep, sweetheart.” His Dad murmurers, hands moving to stroke at Stiles’ back. 

Stiles froze, thinking his father had awoken, but the hands that were stroking his back froze once again. One hand on the back of his neck, holding him close, and the other gripping his waist. 

“Dad,” Stiles whispers, trying to get up without gaining Peter’s attention. 

“Baby, Daddy’s trying to sleep. Just a few more minutes.” His Father turns over, pulling Stiles with him until he’s wedged between his Dad and the back of the couch. 

Stiles cheeks are flushed, “Dad… Daddy!” He whines, trying to nudge his Dad away. Now scared that his waking father will feel the ever present erection pressed up against him. It had been years since they had cuddled like this, the erection was definitely a new addition to it and one Stiles was sure wouldn’t be welcome. 

His Dad’s eyes open, peering at him with lids half open. His smile is soft and warm. “You couldn’t just let me sleep longer, son?”

“I… I just…” Stiles stammers, not quite sure what to say. 

Stiles’ Dad looks up towards the kitchen where he can hear Peter still moving around. “How much you want to bet he’s perfectly fine.” He whispers conspiratorially, “That jerk never gets hungover.”

“I heard that!” Peter yells from the kitchen. “You guys should be thanking me, considering I’m making you _jerks_ food.”

His Dad chuckles, leaning down to kiss Stiles’ forehead before untangling their legs and standing up. Stiles isn’t sure if he’s noticed his…  _ situation _ , but he has to have noticed by this point. Clearly outlined by his tight jeans. Regardless, his father says nothing. Instead he turns and offers Stiles a hand.

“Come on, let’s go eat.”

* * *

 

They don’t have a big wedding. Neither of them want it, and Peter can’t help but think that it’s probably better for John’s career this way. They have a quiet conversation to that degree late one night, and John keeps wanting to assure Peter he’s not trying to hide him. That he’s not ashamed of being queer or of their relationship. Peter quiets him with a kiss, it’s better to keep it quiet regardless. While some may figure it out, the majority will remain blissfully unaware and for Peter, that seems like a much better option. Considering the plans he has for this family. 

They go down to city hall a few weekends after they tell Stiles. There’s only two other people there, Stiles and his nephew Derek. The one member of his family Peter can stand for more than a few minutes at a time. The three of them drive over together, planning to meet Derek there. They each dress in separate rooms, some weird attempt at tradition. Peter joins Stiles in his room, assisting the younger man in tying his tie. 

“You know, Stiles. You really should have learned to tie a tie by now. I’ll have to give your father a talking to…” Peter teases as he stands behind him looking into the floor length mirror. 

“ Mieczyslaw.” He says quietly.

“Excuse me?”

Stiles turns around to look at him, “Mieczyslaw, that’s my real name. I just wanted you to know that.”

Peter pulls him in for a hug. It should be awkward, months after meeting only now finding out his proper name. Instead it feels like a gift.

* * *

 

The actual ceremony passes rather quickly, a quick recitation of words followed by the solemn proclamation. 

“By the powers vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your husband.”

They kiss, short and sweet, the action punctuated by the loud cheer coming from Stiles’ side of the room. 

“Go, Dad! Yeah, Peter!” Stiles whoops, somehow having found flower petals to throw at the pair. 

It’s official. These two men are his. They’re a family now and although the rules Peter planned to follow are far from the conventional ones, he wouldn’t have them any other way. 


End file.
